


Hoe Don't Do It

by whatcolourmyeyes



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Megamind AU, Tasertot Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-08 06:50:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5487734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatcolourmyeyes/pseuds/whatcolourmyeyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A certain Frost Giant has developed the annoying habit of kidnapping Darcy, and occasionally nabbing her leftover lasagna.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hoe Don't Do It

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for loki-of-sassgaard — Merry Christmas!!!! I hope you enjoy :)

vi.

The first time they meet, he tells her she looks like she just saw a ghost.

“Luke,” he swiftly introduces himself, his voice cutting through the bustle and noise of the coffee shop, and Darcy shivers as his eyes burn into hers. Something about him makes her brain itch, like he's just a little more in focus than everyone else in the room, too crisp around the edges to quite belong.

“Darcy,” she answers on reflex, and her cheeks flush at the slight waver in her voice. Luke's gaze flickers to the TV behind her, and she wonders if he's already recognized her – the news loves a good damsel-in-distress story, and the rumour that she and Thor are together… well, needless to say it hasn't exactly helped Darcy's love life. But then Luke's attention shifts back, eyes that look almost red – a trick of the light, no doubt – fixing directly on her, looking at her almost hopefully, and Darcy realizes that she's being hit on.

“You could work on your pick-up lines,” Darcy quips, a beat late, and Luke lets out a surprised laugh. He takes a seat across from her with a warning that “I've got more if that one didn't work,” and okay, maybe Darcy has a thing for British accents and short black hair and blessedly _green_ eyes.

Maybe it's just that he's cute and she's lonely, and when his lips curve at the edges into a slow, assessing smile, she feels her heart stutter.

 

i.

Being kidnapped isn't the sort of thing you're supposed to get accustomed to. Statistically speaking, the average university student has a less than 0.01% likelihood – Jane did the math – of getting whisked away by Frosty the fucking Ice Giant every time he breaks his way out of whatever state-of-the-art prison cell has most recently been created to house him over the course of his multiple life sentences.

So at least Darcy can comfort herself that she's breaking some really obscure world record. Which isn't all that comforting at all.

It's around her third kidnapping of the month that Darcy starts to think the universe simply has it out for her.

She can already sense that all-too-familiar crackle of energy – like brushing up against chaos – behind her, and _really? The library?_ It's finals week, and Darcy doesn't have the time to hang around chained to a hydro pole or locked away in some cave while Loki waits to get his ass handed to him for the umpteenth time.

"Hoe don't –" A burlap sack predictably falls over her head. "– do it," Darcy finishes. "Oh. My. God. Do you _ever_ think to wash the bag?"

 

vii.

Here's what Darcy learns about Luke: he drinks an inhuman amount of coffee even though he says he hates it; he always cheats at cards; he doesn't like thunderstorms; he doesn't mind her stupid nicknames or the fact that she writes on his wrists when she's bored.

She learns that she makes him laugh, and that every time he does, Darcy feels a twinge of surprise, like some part of her was anticipating an entirely different reaction.

He helps her study for finals – he says he owes it to her, and she isn't about to say no to a cute boy offering to quiz her on Clausewitz. At some point study dates turn into late night coffee runs, and impromptu movie nights in the library, and just _being_ with him is so… easy.

So when Luke glances up from a pile of readings (international relations, which he never ceases to lord over her measly Poli Sci degree) to ask if she'd like to go on a date, “a proper one, at that new French place downtown,” Darcy says yes without a second thought.

For once in her life, things are going right – no alien invasions, no kidnappings, no _Loki_ – and it's dangerous, how quickly Darcy feels herself falling for this boy.

 

ii.

“Nice cape," Darcy bites out as Loki pushes her into whatever abandoned building he appropriated into a lair this time around. "Do you think you could possibly incorporate more ermine?" Something in Loki's jaw clenches, and he shoots a glare at her. "Aw, did I hurt the big baddie's feelings?"

"Please shut up," he growls, and Darcy notes, not without a note of satisfaction, the flush creeping up his icy blue skin.

She elects to ignore him, continuing her monologue as she walks over to a complicated board of blinky dials.

"Tell me, do all supervillains have a handbook or are you just naturally unoriginal? I mean, you have the outfit, the archnemesis, the whole 'being doomed to failure' schtick..." Loki seems to be developing a tick under his left eye. "Ooh, what does _this_ button do?" Darcy hovers a finger over a particularly ostentatious red circle labeled 'In Case of Emergency,' fighting back a smirk.

"Don't touch that!" Loki finally snaps.

 _Mission accomplished_.

One minute in and she's already gotten to him.

"Maybe if you had considered _not_ including 'kidnap inconsequential mortal' in your Dastardly Plan..."

"Silence!" he shouts, and Darcy refuses to flinch when he sends a shard of ice flying at her.

"That's all you've got?" she taunts, digging her nails into her palms and resisting the urge to wince at the sound of ice shattering against the pillar behind her. "Ice daggers? Nice try, Elsa. Listen, whatever your issues with Papa Smurf may be, they have nothing to do with me. _Why_ did you have to pick me? I have a life! I have… finals!”

"Do not presume to be _special_ ," Loki hisses, stepping closer, and suddenly he looks so much more intimidating, his green cape whipping around him as he summons more ice. Darcy stumbles backward, her shoulders thumping against concrete. "You are nothing to me but bait."

 

viii.

She should have seen this coming.

Luke is leaning down to kiss her, his breath curiously cold against her lips, and when their mouths collide – too familiar to be their first time – Darcy freezes.

He tastes like bitter coffee and the lemon tart they shared for dessert, and winter and _Loki_ , and _fuck, this is all wrong_.

"Darcy?"

Her hands are shaking now, as everything falls horribly, perfectly into place. She forces herself to watch as flushed white skin fades to an icy blue.

 _Bait_ , he had called her. _An easy target._

And she had to go and fall for one of his illusions.

"Loki."

 

iii.

He glares down at her, the conviction in his red eyes fleeing as they flick downwards to track the swipe of Darcy's tongue across chapped lips.

"Nothing?" she whispers.

"I will destroy this city," Loki says contemptuously, his spine stiffening ever so slightly and _when did she start to notice these things?_ He looks resolutely at a point to the left of her head, not quite meeting her gaze. "And you will watch as I bring my dear brother to ruin."

This is normally the moment when Thor appears and vaults over a table. It's a familiar scene: they've played it out enough times, after all. Loki gives his speech, Thor's hammer interrupts, and the villain falls. A victim of his own hubris.

For a moment they're both just standing there, waiting for the inevitable act of heroism... that never comes.

"I don't believe you," Darcy blurts out, trying to keep Loki's interest off whatever instrument of World Domination he's created this time. The frost giant blinks.

This isn't how it usually goes. But Thor is late and somebody needs to save New York for another day. Darcy is going off-script.

"Why is that?" Loki recovers. "Do you think _you_ could possibly defeat me?"

"I won't have to," Darcy replies.

When she tilts her chin, her lips are only a few inches away from his own. Loki's intimidation tactic is turning on him now; only one step forward, a press up on her tiptoes, and…

It's a monumentally stupid idea.

Darcy steps forward.

 

ix.

"You lied to me."

Not that he hasn't before – it's sort of his Thing; that and getting the shit kicked out of him by Thor – but she's never felt so manipulated before, so betrayed.

Darcy crosses her arms, trying to keep them from trembling. Even now, she can see traces of Luke in the curve of Loki's jaw, the dip of those regal cheekbones.

And she hates him for it.

"I did only what I had to do to get what I wanted."

"What, and you wanted me?" Her voice cracks, and Darcy isn't sure what answer she wants to hear.

“Did you ever wonder the real reason I picked you?” Loki asks, his tone icy. Here is the hardness that Luke always lacked. His face is unreadable, a perfect mask. "Oh, of course I knew all about Thor’s lovely Dr. Foster. It was obvious _you_ weren't his. But you weren't afraid of me. You were angry, and defiant, and it was stunning. Yes, I desired you."

“And I could only possibly want you if you became somebody else?"

"We were the same in essentials."

"Yeah, minus the whole 'alien supervillain who wants to take over the world' bit," she snaps, trying not to remind herself that even _knowing_ those things she still fell for him.

"Darcy-"

"Luke was a game of pretend," she continues on blithely, ignoring how every word feels like a knife to the gut. "He didn't exist. _This_ is who you really are."

 

iv.

She presses her mouth to his, eyes wide open – _and how could she have been so_ thoughtless _as to forget the danger Loki's skin poses?_ – but then she registers cool lips, just this side of not-human, moving insistently against hers, and this _definitely_ isn't what frostbite feels like. Loki's teeth nip at her lower lip before his tongue darts out to assuage the sting, tracing the seam of her lips until Darcy gasps into the kiss, letting him in. As with everything else, he aims to best her at this, his hands confidently falling to her waist and tugging her even closer.

Darcy forgets that she should be pulling away.

“What was that?” Loki breathes out, his lips still hovering above hers in an almost-kiss, and Darcy's head clears.

"A distraction,” she says. Unwillingly, her hands push at his shoulders, breaking out of his embrace, and as Thor jumps through a window and to her rescue, she tells herself she isn't lying, ignoring the way the words linger heavily on her tongue.

 

x.

The last time this happened, all the bookcases in Darcy's apartment were rearranged reverse-alphabetically, and the asshole had managed to eat the rest of her leftover lasagna.

So this should go well.

"What do you want, Loki?"

"The same thing I always have."

"The world, in ruins at your feet?" Darcy tries, scooping up Mewmew and holding the cat close.

"A close second."

"A ray gun that makes pew-pew noises?"

Loki doesn't deign to respond to that one.

"A cape that defies the laws of physics?"

"How are you coming up with these?"

"Better question: why are you in my apartment?"

"Did you _ever_ want me?"

"I wanted Luke," Darcy answers, circumventing the question.

"That isn't what I asked."

He's called her bluff, now, and he stalks towards her confidently.

"Oh, glad we cleared up the whole 'pretending to be someone else doesn't actually make you someone els-"

The rest of Darcy's doubtless incredible scathing remark is smothered by Loki's lips, and after a moment of hesitation, she twines her fingers through his hair, kissing him back frantically.

"You shouldn't-" They're falling backwards onto the couch, and Darcy accidentally laughs into his mouth. "- have lied," she gasps, her anger already dissipating, damn him.

"I'm sorry," Loki mumbles between pecks, his hands smoothing apologies over her skin as he devours her utterly, dragging his teeth down her neck, licking cool paths over the reddening marks. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm-"

Darcy tilts her hips and rolls them over, straddling him.

"How about you make it up to me?"

And Loki surges forward to capture her lips once more.  


v.

"Why did you kiss me?"

Darcy whirls around in surprise.

Loki, in all his smug, leather-clad glory, is sitting in Darcy's apartment when she gets back from the gym. His arm is curled around Mewmew, who purrs happily, the furry little traitor.

"Did you seriously break into my apartment to ask me that?" Darcy finally bursts out. "Aren't you supposed to be jail?"

"It rather appears that I've escaped, doesn't it?"

Darcy is not amused. The clock _tick tick ticks_ and she stares at the villainous mastermind currently lounging in her living room like he owns the place, unsure of what to say.

She settles on:

"Get your damn feet off the coffee table."

"Why did you kiss me?"

"I... Thor was late!"

"But that's not why, is it?" he prods, and Darcy flushes bright pink.

"Well, why did you kiss me back?" she explodes.

"Because I wanted to."

It sounds so simple when he says it.

"Look, it doesn't mean anything," Darcy rationalizes. More for her benefit than his. "We couldn't... I mean, not that I... We _couldn't_ ,"she repeats, willing him understand. "Not in this lifetime."

It's masochistic exercise, doing the right thing. Darcy clenches her hands into fists, her nails digging half-moons into her palms.

"If that is your answer," Loki replies, standing up stiffly.

"No kidnappings for at least a couple months, okay?" Darcy tries, struggling to keep the levity in her voice. "Watch Netflix, relax, think about _not_ creating a doomsday device..."

Loki is almost at the door when he pauses, and, stepping towards her, leans down to place a kiss on her cheek.

"For luck," he says.


End file.
